


Etta Candy and the Wonder Woman

by Jellybaby21963



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Canon Retelling, Etta's POV, F/F, F/M, Multi, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 20:19:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14220993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellybaby21963/pseuds/Jellybaby21963
Summary: Steve was dead.Well, technically, he was missing. In this war it was all the same. Every day at 6:00pm on the dot Steve called Etta. Of course, sometimes he was late by a few minutes or even hours, due to being a spy in enemy territory. Excuses as far as she was concerned. She may be his secretary but she was also his friend and no matter how selfish it was she needed him to call. She just needed to hear his voice. They never told her anything. Only Steve ever did and he had no way of contacting her, if he was even alive. It was a secret conversation that she listened in on that told her what she needed to know. Steve vanished over the ocean pursued by the enemy with no trace of where he’d gone. Etta listened to the meeting with a heavy heart, but a determination to continue the work Steve had set her to.





	Etta Candy and the Wonder Woman

**Author's Note:**

> This is a retelling of Wonder Woman (2017) through Etta Candy's perspective. This is my first fic so comments are really appreciated.

Steve was dead.  
Well, technically, he was missing. In this war it was all the same. Every day at 6:00pm on the dot Steve called Etta. Of course, sometimes he was late by a few minutes or even hours, due to being a spy in enemy territory. Excuses as far as she was concerned. She may be his secretary but she was also his friend and no matter how selfish it was she needed him to call. She just needed to hear his voice. They never told her anything. Only Steve ever did and he had no way of contacting her, if he was even alive. It was a secret conversation that she listened in on that told her what she needed to know. Steve vanished over the ocean pursued by the enemy with no trace of where he’d gone. Etta listened to the meeting with a heavy heart, but a determination to continue the work Steve had set her to.

~

The papers made it seem the war was an easy win. They only spoke of successes and made no reports of German wins. Patriotism was soaring encouraged by papers that glorified the deaths of their sons. Everything was heavily censored. Those that reported the truth did so at the risk of arrest. Anyone that undermined the war was a threat that couldn’t be ignored. Exactly how much money they were borrowing from the states went undisclosed. Etta held in her hand a leaflet asking her to give her nonexistent son to the war. The recruiters didn't tell them about the ammunition shortages or the horrors of the trenches. Like any self-respecting woman of the 20th century Etta was doing her part in helping the war effort. Her part was running errands for an American spy. Despite his disposition he was perfectly nice. It helped that he was paying her nearly the same wages as a man in her position. And even more tantalizing bonus was that she had a primary source for insight into the war.

“Somme...How many did you say?”

“Hundreds,” Steve replies his voice crackling through the phone. “Still counting.”

Etta reminds herself to breathe and solemnly writes down the date. On Steve’s end there’s the garbled sound of talking and Steve shuffling around.

“Are you okay?” Etta asks.

There’s a long stretch of silence on Steve’s end. Then his gruff voice comes through.

“M’fine. I’ve gotta go, Etta.”

“Of course! Good-bye, Steve.” She starts to hang up the receiver but pulls it back up to her lips.

“Don’t forget to call!”

“I won’t, Etta.

Steve always returned Etta’s call with more news. It was never good. There was always more problems they didn’t have the time or resources to solve. Steve was often reluctant to share; concerned about her morale or something. She insisted on being told the truth of this war. The papers reported Somme’s first day as a success. Etta passed the truth of the battle on to the “outlaw journalists” she had come to know through Steve. Friend’s of his. They knew if the public knew the truth the war would end the next day. She knew that the propaganda machine was how they were going to win this war as well. Still, someone had to know what these men were going through. It put her and others at risk but they all knew that. They couldn’t allow their history and their sacrifices to be censored. It wasn’t work Steve had had given her but she insisted on it. After hearing his stories late at night at a secluded bar she couldn't forget it.

~

“A flu?”

“Yeah. A few men in Fort Riley caught it.”

“Oh. I’m sure it’s nothing. You Americans are made of stronger stuff. Have to be to survive in that wasteland.” The manages to get a dry chuckle out of Steve.

“Yeah. We don’t need anything else. They’ve got it bad enough in the trenches.” Etta hums and writes a little note of the flu in her journal. Infection and sickness traveled rapidly in the damp spaces of the trenches. Disease would get them before any German bullet did. It was brutal but she had to remain optimistic. Their faith would win them this war. Their men would keep fighting, amputated legs and all.

~

“GERMANY’S IMPENDING DOOM,” the leaflet proclaims boldly. Below the words is an illustration of a German soldier with tentacles instead of hands. Each of his tentacles are either coiled around or grasping at women. Each woman represented a country that had taken no involvement in this war. Etta stares down at the faces of the terrified women, recalling the girls of her old sorority. Had it been them in these women’s places that German octopus would have be laid flat. Fear mongering aside Etta could understand the lack of involvement. There was only so much resources in the world and only so many men that could be risked. Even knowing what was happening Etta knew she wouldn’t have the heart to send her sons off. It was hard enough to watch Steve go for extended periods of time.

~

“Dr. Poison? What sort of name is that?”

“Name of a ghost as far as I can tell. They say if it breathes on you your lungs will catch fire.”

“A ghost can breathe?”

“Apparently.” Steve’s voice dips away as he speaks to someone else on the other end. Etta sighs and takes note of the phantom.

“Well, try not to breathe then.”

“I’ll do my best Etta.” It was a ghost story created by dog tiered men. Most likely it was a tale to scare the boy’s that joined the fight unwillingly. Still she kept the ghost story in mind. She’s found the truth in stranger places.

~

Etta skims her finger down the paper, her brows moving closer together with each line. The writing was sloppy with ink smeared across. It being written in butchered English didn’t make it any easier for her to read.

“It says here her name is Dr. Maru.”

“Her?”

“Yes. Ludendorff hired her on for her particular specialty.”

“Let me guess. Her specialty is poison?”

“That does seem to be the case.”

Steve sighs heavily and messes with something in the background.

“And she’s here with Ludendorff. Great. I’ve got to see what they’re planning.”

“How will you do that?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll figure something out.”

“Steve, don’t do anything that will get you killed.”

“I won’t, Etta.”

~

Steve didn’t call the next day. Or the day after that. Etta wanted to think he was just busy. Spying on the Germans had to be tasking work. Still it was unlike him to be silent for so long. Etta remind herself that Steve is a professional and had everything under control. It’s fine. He’s fine. Everything was fine. Keeping to her duties she worked to distract herself from the nagging thoughts. Not that there was much work with Steve gone. It was hours of sorting through his mail and watering the little plants he kept on his desk. She sorted his mail by personal letters, work related notices, and items on his financials. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Men moved about freely doing their work, paying her absolutely no mind. There was no somber man bringing her a bright red envelope. Everything was as it should be.

“Missing?”  
Etta freezes with a fistful of letters in her hands.  
“Yeah. He’s not made a single report in the last two days. Last they heard he was following a lead.” The two men are talking in the office across the hall with the door ajar. They look troubled but not upset. Etta stares at them for several minutes not moving. The voices around her fade out until they are but faint buzzing.

~

Etta hands her ration card over to the vendor with a smile. She takes it and starts packing up her weekly four ounce ration of margarine. She does not return Etta’s smile. Etta’s lips pull together.

“Mhmm, thank you.” She takes her items and scurries back home with the bit of food she’s allowed.

Despite being told countless times to use it sparingly, Etta pours a some of the milk in a bowl and sets it out for the tomcat she’s seen hanging around. The milk was on the verge of souring anyway. The cool pantry would only keep the perishables for three days at the most. What she had she had to use fast. Most of it ended up getting dried or pickled in the meantime. The margarine she picked up was just what she need for the little treat she was making for herself.

Etta’s home was a small affair. There wasn’t much of note outside of a few weights and her Holliday college sports shirt she had hanging on her wall. Pleasant reminders of her glory days.

On her kitchen table papers were scattered with scribbled writing. Each paper was her poor attempt at trying to find Steve’s family. That investigation yielded no results and had become a depressing reminder she didn't have the heart to clean up. She knew the man he’d become but little of his past. He had never been chatty without the help of a stiff drink. Even then he only spoke of the plights of other men. There had still been no word from Steve and she had almost come to terms with it. She’d even started packing up her items from the office. Doing work for someone other than Steve just didn’t feel right. Even with him gone she continued to give what stories she had over to the journalists. There was plans to smuggle her a bit closer to the war zone through the towns and villages it ravaged.

Etta whips the batter in its bowl with quick trained movements. When the phone mounted on the wall rings interrupting her rhythm she groans. She sighs and tucks the bowl under her arm and picks up the receiver.

“Hello, Etta Candy speaking.”

“Etta! Can you meet me? A...few things have happened.”

Etta’s jaw clenches and for several long moments she does not respond.

“Etta?”

“Of course, Steve,” her voice is as chipper as ever, “It’s what I’m here for.”

She abandons the cake gets her things together.  
If she cries after the call Steve doesn’t hear about it.


End file.
